Irritable
by Jusmine
Summary: It's been said that being a spy is stressful. It is, just not as much as living with a seven year old and an American. For Jedi Knight of Middle Earth and Nyxelestia.


**A/N:** Hey, guys. This story is dedicated to Jedi Knight of Middle Earth (thanks for bringing my muse back from vacation!) and to Nyxelestia (feel better, hon)

**Warnings:** Um... slightly cracky, and quite possibly OOC for Ian. (Remember first warning! He's allowed to be OOC in a crackfic!) And brief mention of slash. Oh, and it's pretty plotless, though fun, in my humble opinon. :D

Enjoy!

**Edited** as of June 6, 2009, with thanks to Mad Mogg for the Britpick. ^_^

--

Alex walked sullenly up the road. He'd wanted to stay at Tom's longer, but Tom's parents had started fighting, and his friend had begged him to leave before it got too bad.

He was met at the walkway by his uncle, who was looking more than a bit harried.

"Let's go get ice cream, Alex," Ian said tensely, throwing a furtive look over his shoulder back towards the door. He grabbed Alex's hand and started pulling him down the pavement.

"But I have to go inside!" Alex protested, trying to dig his heels into the pavement.

"Later," Ian replied, moving faster now.

Something about the way he was acting reminded Alex of a few months ago. He hurried up to pull on Ian's shirt. The man bent over and asked him what he needed.

"Is Jack all right?" Alex asked quietly, his large brown eyes solemn.

"Yes, of course she is," Ian replied, wincing slightly at the American's name.

Alex spotted the wince, of course, and his lower lip trembled. (And when the hell did his lip get split? It hadn't been like that earlier. As soon as they were away from the house, he would have to interrogate his nephew.)

"Is Jack with Mum and Dad?" Alex spoke the names almost reverently, his expression serious.

Ian realized what Alex must think was happening with a start. But before he could correct him, Alex continued.

"Is she in heaven like Josy? 'Cause I'd really miss her if she was. Jack's really nice, and she's a lot funner than any of the others. Why'd she have to go to heaven, Ian?"

Ian knelt down so that his face was on a level with Alex's. "Alex listen to me," he said, cutting the diminutive child off mid piteous ramble. "Jack's fine, all right?"

"So we don't have to clean up a lot of blood?" Alex asked, perking up considerably. It was a good thing that Alex was so young, Ian realized. If he had been older, he would have understood what had happened to Josy, rather than thinking that she was just on holiday in heaven for a while.

Ian often wished that he himself was young and didn't understand the horrors of the world, that he could be as innocent and light-hearted as his young nephew.

And what had happened to Josy… He couldn't keep the images of the woman out of his head. The short, dark hair and the Asian features matted and coated with blood. The pastel pink blouse that was drenched in gleaming red blood. The bullet-hole in her stomach.

The worst thing was that it had been Ian's fault. Josy was murdered because of _him_. She had slowly bled to death, unable to get to a phone to call for help, because of _him_.

And when he'd come home from Alex's football game, said little boy in tow, he'd been _grateful_ that it hadn't been Alex. He'd done some pretty fucked up things in his lifetime, had some pretty fucked up views on good and bad, but that one definitely took the cake.

"Let's go get the ice cream!" Alex chirped, pulling his uncle down the sidewalk.

--

Standing in line at the ice cream parlor, Ian noticed that Alex was fidgeting a lot.

He glanced down to tell him to behave, but stopped when he saw the raised bumps on the boy's arm, under Alex's frantically scratching hand.

"Where'd you get that?" Ian asked calmly, not wanted to alarm the small child.

Alex shrugged up at his uncle. "I dunno," he offered, brown eyes big and a little too innocent.

Ian sighed. He knew that look far too well. "Where were you playing, Alex?"

"In Tom's garden," Alex offered, looking at the counter, the floor, passersby, and anywhere but at Ian.

Damn. He was going to have to teach the kid to lie sometime. "Alex," he said quietly, warning him that he could easily see through his transparent innocent little boy act.

"Tom and me were playing in the woods in the park behind his house," Alex admitted in a small voice, staring down at his feet in a practiced, dejected way.

Ian took a deep breath and forced himself to count to twenty in German, and then to thirty in French before even attempting to speak. _I will not yell, I will not yell_, he repeated as a mantra. God knew he'd witnessed enough yelling before Alex had arrived home.

Finally, he spoke in an even, almost calm voice. "Are you allowed to play there, Alex?"

"No," Alex replied, miserably.

"Then why did you, Alex?" Ian continued. He vaguely remembered that you were supposed to repeat your child's name as often as possible while reprimanding them. Something about it reinforcing the lesson better. He'd read that in a parenting book that an old boyfriend had given him after John and Helen died. He'd thrown the book away immediately after said boyfriend broke up with him just because he'd interrupted their… playtime to comfort a crying Alex.

"Because you told me not to," Alex shrugged.

Now Ian was counting so that he wouldn't start laughing and ruin the whole purpose of this interrogation. He wished he had somebody else there to play the bad cop. "Never do that again, Alex."

Alex nodded, scratching harshly at his arm.

A few minutes of silence (except for that one little sniffle that dried up as soon as Ian reminded Alex that the itch was his own fault) later, Ian couldn't help saying, "Rebellion's more fun if you don't get caught."

It was probably a good thing that Alex was too distracted by shredding his skin to hear him.

They were finally at the counter after an incredibly long wait. Ian tried to drag Alex to the till with him. For his part, Alex was determined to stay in one place to scratch.

Finally, Ian managed to order, and the two bowls of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup were made. Alex looked up from his arm long enough to enquire about the missing third ice cream.

Fuck, Ian thought, frantically trying to remember what Jack had ordered (and he meant _ordered_). He couldn't remember. Jack was going to fucking _kill_ him!

He quickly told the teenager working the ice cream that he needed three of his order, while thinking of how to not admit that he hadn't remembered what Jack wanted.

He would just have to say that they were out of… whatever it was that Jack wanted.

Ian accepted the three cups of ice cream from the "Ice Cream Artist," and made Alex take one. Thankfully, the ice cream distracted him, and there was no danger of him dropping the precious cup to worry at his arm.

The two Rider men slowly ambled their way back home, Ian too busy planning a way to keep Alex safe to be frustrated by the agonizingly slow pace that the boy set while slurping happily at his treat.

It was with great dread that Ian opened the door to the house. Very, very quietly, of course, and gesturing to Alex to keep the volume down as well. Maybe Jack was asleep.

"It's about time!" an American accent snapped from the living room.

Ian almost dropped the ice cream in terror.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Jack continued. "Bring it in here!"

That was a command, and Ian had to obey it. Reluctantly, he entered the living room, stepping quietly so as not to antagonize her.

She was lying on the couch with _Merlin_ playing on the telly, and a heating pad firmly plopped onto her stomach.

Ian passed the ice cream over, and tried to make a dash to safety.

"What the hell is _this_?" Jack demanded, and Ian could feel her eyes burning holes into his back. He slowly turned around to face her.

"Ice cream?" he offered meekly, and very stupidly.

"Thanks ever so - I hadn't realized!" Jack retorted sarcastically, steamrolling on, "I'm on my period, not _stupid_!"

"I'm sorry," Ian replied contritely. All of the women that he knew (which, admittedly, was really just his mother and Helen) were usually mollified by that statement.

Well, apparently bloody American women didn't follow that particular law of nature.

"I specifically asked for _chocolate_ ice cream," Jack snapped, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

Fuck. Of course she'd asked for the one flavor that no decent ice cream parlor ever ran out of! Regardless, he had made a plan, and he always stuck to his plans. "They ran out."

It was weak, and Jack pounced on it immediately.

"They ran out of _chocolate_?!" Jack snorted derisively.

Ian decided to avoid that particular trick question and instead pointed out the chocolate syrup.

Jack was still seething, but she let it go at that, opting instead to turn the volume way up on the telly, and ate her vanilla with more smacking than Ian had thought possible.

Ian hated smacking.

Jack knew that perfectly well.

A bit later, Ian was still standing there awkwardly, not wanting to turn his back on her. He was so tense he couldn't even smile at the wonderful sexual tension that Merlin and Arthur had going on in the show.

"How are you feeling?" he asked finally, and she glared at him. "Right. Stupid question," he backtracked quickly.

They watched the rest of the show in a tense silence.

"Fucking PMS," Jack spat, as the credits ran, clutching the heating pad more firmly onto her stomach.

"Jack," Ian warned. "You'll teach Alex bad language."

A moment later, Alex walked by, muttering, "Fucking poison ivy."

--

**A/N:** See? Plotless, pointless. But fun, yes? ^_^

For those of you that don't know, _Merlin_ is a fantastic show. It centers on characters called Merlin/Arthur. Oh, pardon me. Merlin and Arthur. ^_^

Review? Please?


End file.
